Selkies and Sparrows
by Kaluki
Summary: Crossover HPPotC. When Jack sailed into Port Royal that day, he was searching for a ship. What he found was a Selkie in hiding from his past, where he used to be called Harry Potter... Slash HPJS
1. Prologue

**Selkies and Sparrows**

**Summary: **When Jack Sparrow sailed into Port Royal that sunny day, it was his intention to commandeer one of those ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer his weaselly black guts out. What he ended up with was a young Selkie who used to go by the name of Harry Potter, but is currently in hiding from his friends, his enemies, and, most importantly, his destiny.

**Parings: **Jack Sparrow/Harry Potter (in other words, Slash. Non-slash people, ye be warned.)

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter isn't mine and neither, sad to say, is Pirates of the Caribbean, in any shape, form or manner except the one with blue and green polka dots on it.

---

"_For all at last return to the sea – to Oceanus, the ocean river, like the ever flowing stream of time, the beginning and the end." _

– _R__achel Carson, 'The Sea Around us'._

-

Prologue: The Choice

-

Harry stood by the edge of the lake again, kneeling carefully by the water. He dipped his hand in, and smiled. It was a bitter, painful smile, but filled with yearning never the less. The water was sweet and fresh when he tasted it; it lacked the tang of salt or the taste of freedom he longed for. But still.

"_Harry!_"

Harry stood up jerkily, whirling around to meet an exasperated pair of brown eyes. The smile vanished from his face to be replaced by a dark scowl, though the longing remained in his eyes for those who cared to look. "What?" he all but growled, causing Hermione to stop in her tracks and look at him in surprise.

"Harry?" she said again, less sure this time and more questioning.

"Come to lock me back up again?" he continued. "Come to trap me inside stone walls and tell me to stop dreaming again?"

She sighed, tugging her cuffs straight in exasperation. "We're not locking you up, Harry, we're just concerned about you, and –"

"So let me go," Harry interrupted her, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

"Harry, every time you come to the water, you get this weird spaced out look! It's like you're –"

"Peaceful?" Harry interrupted her again. "Free? Oh, but wait, that must be wrong – after all, _everyone_ knows the Boy Who Lived must never be happy, right?" By this time Harry had begun to pace, his feet kicking up plumes of water as he splashed through the lake.

"Harry, listen to me!" Hermione finally shouted. Grudgingly Harry paused, ankle deep in the water. "We feel like we're loosing you, Harry! Like you want to go away, but if you did, you'd never come back!" Tears had swelled up during her tirade, but Hermione angrily dashed them aside in favour of crossing her arms and glaring at Harry. There: she'd said it. The fears that had been plaguing not only her, but Ron and the Weasleys and who knew how many others. She waited for Harry's reaction, for him to come to his senses and _see_ what everyone else could see, that by keeping him away from the lake they were only trying to save him.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"What?" Hermione blinked. This wasn't how it was supposed to go; she must've misheard.

"What's holding me here, Hermione?" Harry continued, his voice quiet and subdued. "A prophecy, a duty I never asked for, expectations from people that I can never live up to."

He turned and, without waiting for an answer, began striding through the edge of the water back towards the castle, seemingly not caring that it was coming up to his knees now and his robes must be sticking and clinging to his skin uncomfortably. Hermione could only stare after him in shock.

"What about us?" she whispered after him, though he didn't hear.

Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, and she leaned back into a familiar embrace gratefully.

"Harry being moody again?" Ron asked. Hermione nodded.

There was a pause, then, "I wish he'd never become an Animagus!"

"It wouldn't matter either way," a third voice spoke. The pair turned, and Hermione nodded a greeting to Remus. "His Animagus form only reflects what's already there, it can't create anything new," the werewolf continued.

"I still don't understand how being a bloody seal makes Harry act this way," Ron complained.

"He's not a seal," Remus corrected absently.

"Yes he is! He walks like a seal, talks like a seal –"

"Huh?" Ron broke in. "Seals don't walk or talk, Hermione."

She waved a hand dismissively at him. "Muggle phrase. Of course he's a seal, what else can he be?"

"He's a Selkie," Remus said, as if that explained everything. Hermione gasped and Ron looked to her for an explanation.

"I didn't know they existed! I thought wizarding Selkies were Merpeople, or similar. Is he really a Selkie? Where does he keep his skin?"

"'Mione! That's disgusting!" Hermione turned to Ron with a confused expression. "Harry keeps his skin on _him_," Ron elaborated.

"Oh, not like that – Ron, do you know what Selkies are?" Without waiting for his reply, Hermione continued, much to the amusement of Remus. "Selkies are seals that can turn into people. They keep their sealskin, and turn back into seals by putting the sealskin on again."

"Very good, Hermione," Remus broke in. "In this instance, however, Ron is right. Harry keeps his skin with him; he simply transforms out of his Animagus form to return to a human again. But to answer your earlier question, Ron…" Remus sighed. "Freedom and the sea are the two most important things to any Selkie. Apart from the occasional brief visit, they only stay on land when forced – when they somehow can't access their skin to return to the sea."

"But if Harry has his skin with him, then why isn't he free?"

"Because Harry is still Harry, and has more things tying him to the land than and Selkie will ever have," Remus explained patiently.

Hermione suddenly gasped, her eyes going wide. The other two turned to her questioningly. "That's what he said, just now – that there's nothing keeping him here, except his duty and the prophecy!"

"What about us?" Ron asked, echoing Hermione's earlier question. She sighed in the particular way that Ron immediately recognised as the 'you-should-already-know-this' sigh. Personally, he didn't think that was very fair, seeing as Hermione herself didn't know before a minute ago.

"Haven't you ever read the Selkie tales, Ron?" Yep, there it was. "Even if a Selkie was forced to spend time on land, once they find their skin, they'll leave without a backward glance – even if they've been married for years and have children on the land. They never see their land friends or lovers again, no matter how close they were. The sea is more important than _anything_ to them."

Remus nodded. "It's lucky the lake is fresh water, not salt – I doubt anything could hold Harry back if it were."

Ron swore, his face paling. Hermione glared at him disapprovingly, while Remus gestured for him to elaborate. He swallowed, then croaked out, "What if there was a place where Harry could get at salt water inside the school?"

---

Harry paced angrily outside the blank wall on the seventh floor corridor. His thoughts were so muddled and jumbled that when the door finally appeared, he half expected it not to open.

He knew what he was, or at least, what his Animagus form was. And he suspected that Remus knew as well, seeing as the man had caught Harry researching Selkies after curfew in the library. Hopefully no one else knew; he'd been careful to let them think he was just a plain old Monk seal.

What he didn't know was what he wanted to do. When he was just going through his normal day, it was pretty clear – how could he even think of leaving his friends behind to face Voldemort alone? The whole bloody _world_ seemed to be relying on him to stop the Dark Lord, if Dumbledore's predictions about Voldemort's plans were accurate. As much as he hated it, it was his responsibility, and no one else could do it.

But then again, when he stood by the water, everything changed. Who said he had to defeat Voldemort? The prophecy merely said that one must die at the hand of the other – not that no one else could kill them. Harry himself had certainly come near enough to dieing on several occasions, only a few of them by Voldemort's hand directly.

And his friends… His friends could cope without him. It wasn't like he was the centre of their universe; they'd survive if he left, but sometimes it seemed like he wouldn't survive if he stayed.

Harry stepped through the doorway with his mind elsewhere, not paying attention to what the Room of Requirement offered him. It was a shock, therefore, when barely a pace into the room he ran into a wall. He looked around in surprise, leaning against the wall so that he could lift up his foot and rub his painful toes.

The room was small, barely bigger than a closet, with walls of smooth black stone. Opposite him, the door took up the entirety of the 'wall', though even as he watched it the door melted away to become seamless stone, with no handle or hinge to open it with.

Harry was trapped.

_My child._

Harry jumped, spinning round in the cramped space in an attempt to see where the voice was coming from.

_I offer you the choice that resides within yourself, the choice that if you ask, I can enforce._

Harry paused, then said tentatively, "What choice?"

_Only you can make it._

"But what are the options?"

_Only you know._

"But –" Harry paused, ignoring his frustration briefly. The choices… Wasn't that what he was worrying about just a second ago? Chose his freedom or his friends. Chose the sea or his duty.

But if he had heard correctly, then the mysterious Choice Offerer would make sure that once he made his choice he couldn't go back. Could he do that? Give up his friends forever? Give up his freedom forever? Unbidden, an image came to his mind of the person he had been barely a year ago. It was why they'd encouraged him to achieve his Animagus transformation in the first place, the only way they thought he'd be able to keep his sanity after the deaths of his sixth year, and before that, Sirius in his fifth. He'd thrown himself into his training, in both weaponary and magic. He'd been constantly exhausted and drawn, he couldn't eat, he barely said more than two words to anyone. He'd felt empty, and relished it; if he didn't care about them, he had reasoned, then their deaths couldn't hurt him.

It was McGonagall who'd taught him the Animagus transformation. At the time he'd agreed, thinking of it as merely another weapon in the war, merely something to keep his mind occupied and away from the pain. But as he continued and progressed further with the transformation, the simpleness and peace of the Selkie's mind began to influence him. Calm him down, bring him out of the shell he'd been hiding in. For almost six months he'd been happy, laughing with his friends on land and chasing the Grindylows for fun in the lake. But then, he'd done the final stage of the Animagus process – the merging of the two minds, so that as a human he'd be able to access and pull up his Selkie form without a wand or a potion as he'd needed before, and so that as a Selkie he needn't wait for the time limiter on said spell or potion to run out before he changed back into his human form.

Since then, the sea called to him. He'd become scared of the power it held over him, scared of what would happen if he gave in. It hadn't mattered before; even if he'd lost his mind completely to the Selkie, he'd be brought out of it when his time was up. In the last two months though it had gotten so bad that he dared not enter even the shallowest bath in his Selkie form, for fear that he wouldn't come back. But he couldn't stay away from the water forever.

Someone began pounding on the door, and, from the sounds of it, frantically rattling the handle. "Harry? _Harry!"_

"You have to picture the room he's in, Ron!"

Harry tried to ignore the voices of his friends and focus on the choice he had to make. But still, the thought came into his mind – they cared about him. Even with the way he'd been treating them recently with his temper short and his mind on the sea, they were worried for him.

"How do I know what room that is?"

"The sea, you dolt! Imagine the sea!"

_Imagine the sea…_ Harry closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, blocking out Ron's frantic chanting on the other side of the door. Without access to his Selkie form, cut off from the sea, he'd only get worse. Treat them worse. He knew that. He _needed _the sea.

_Imagine the sea…_ The smell of salt on the wind, the raucous cry of a seagull above the crashing sound of the surf on the rocks, the blessed coolness and warmth and all encompassing safeness of the water, and the freedom, the freedom of an empty horizon as far as the eye can see…

Hogwarts nodded mentally. Her child had made his choice. She opened the door for her other children, and even forgave them for slamming it so strongly that any other door would have come off its hinges, or at least dented the wall behind it.

But they were too late. Her child had made his choice, and she had given him the sea he dreamt of, and freedom from the prophecy that came only with a distance of years and miles…

And far away, a dark shape curved and arched and whistled joyfully as it danced through the Caribbean Sea.

-

---

**A/N: **If you're wondering what Selkies are, this is the explanation given by the Encyclopedia Mythica shy Selkies are marine creatures in the shape of a seal. They can be found near the islands of Orkney and Shetland. A female can shed her skin and come ashore as a beautiful woman. When a man finds the skin, he can force the Selkie to be a good, if somewhat sad, wife. Should she ever recover the skin, she will immediately return to sea, leaving her husband behind. The male Selkies are responsible for storms and also for the sinking of ships, which is their way of avenging the hunting of seals."

This is Harry's Animagus form, though he may be slightly different due to the influence of his human form and magic. Also, bear in mind that legends on the Selkies vary, and in some the males can also shed their skins.

And yes, I know that the Caribbean is a long way from Orkney and Shetland, but hey. I claim artistic licence. Harry's seal form while a Selkie is also slightly different from the traditional Grey Seal – he's a Monk seal, adapted to warmer waters. The Caribbean Monk seal actually became extinct in the 1950s, but Pirates of the Caribbean is set long before that, so it shouldn't be a problem.

Please review and tell me what you think!


	2. The Infernal Bottle

**Selkies and Sparrows**

**Summary: **When Jack Sparrow sailed into Port Royal that sunny day, it was his intention to commandeer one of those ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer his weaselly black guts out. What he ended up with was a young Selkie who used to go by the name of Harry Potter, but is currently in hiding from his friends, his enemies, and, most importantly, his destiny.

**Parings: **Jack Sparrow/Harry Potter (in other words, Slash. Non-slash people, ye be warned.)

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter isn't mine and neither, sad to say, is Pirates of the Caribbean, in any shape, form or manner except the one with pink and yellow tartan on it.

---

"_Forget this life,  
Come with me,  
Don't look back you're safe now.  
Unlock your heart,  
Drop your guard,  
No one's left to stop you."_

– _Evanescence, 'Anywhere'_

-

The Infernal Bottle

-

_And far away, a dark shape curved and arched and whistled joyfully as it danced through the Caribbean Sea._

-

Captain Jack Sparrow lifted up the thick glass bottle in his right hand and studied it carefully. He then shook it energetically, spat on the side, and polished it with his sleeve. When a second examination proved the bottle to be as stubbornly empty as it had been prior to these actions, he made a face and let his arm flop dejectedly to the deck of his small and leaking but perfectly formed pirate vessel. His other arm, still holding onto the neck of the disappointing bottle, dangled over the edge of the boat. A second and a small splunking sound later, he stared at his now empty hand in confusion, opening and closing it again a few times for good measure.

Where had the bottle gone?

-

Approximately twelve meters below and seven to the right, a sleek seal paused in his own careful examination of the rocks. He looked up, dark liquid eyes picking out the foreign object in the otherwise clear blue ocean. No, his ears hadn't been deceiving him – there _had_ been a splashing sound. And _that_ meant that someone had thrown something into the Sea.

He blinked, then twisted around and swam towards the object with a few flips of his tail and flippers. Holding the object delicately so as not to damage it with his claws, he sniffed it carefully, then whistled in distress. A Landling object! The Landlings did _not_ belong with the Sea. _Everyone_ knew that, though too often the Landlings themselves only learnt when the Sea removed them. Often with a little help from the Storm Children, of which he was such a fine specimen, but he digresses.

He held the Landling object in his teeth as he swam upwards, so he could use his flippers to steer with. He dropped it down to his flippers though when he lifted his head out of the water to look around. The shore was quite a way away still; he could swim to it and get rid of the Landling object that way, but it would take time and there was a particular crab _somewhere_ just below him that he'd been hunting out for ages. Plus, he really did not like the Land, for reasons he could never quite remember fully. He only knew that he belonged in the Sea, and should therefore avoid the Land.

He twisted in the water, looking the other way. Only a few lengths in front of him was a strange… Landling object? That was the only thing he could describe it as, but it didn't _feel_ like a Landling at all. He blew a raspberry in thought, then ducked back under the water to swim closer.

He took a moment to study the Not-Landling object from underneath, then chattered happily in recognition. The dark shape was a Surface Seal! It was a young one, like he'd seen playing near the shores and sometimes hauled out on the sand to bask. Once they grew bigger they stopped visiting the shore though – like all Sea creatures, they learnt that their place was on the water. The Surface Seal would be able to take the Landling object he still held in his flippers safely to the shore, and he wouldn't have to go near the Land. The Storm Child whistled excitedly; it was a brilliant plan!

He lifted his head out of the water again next to the Surface Seal, and, with a deft toss of his flippers, the Landling object was safe with the Surface Seal. He stayed only long enough to check that the Surface Seal had a firm grip on it, then dived back under the water and resumed his search for the crab.

He had barely reached the rocks and pebbles before he heard a second splash. He looked up again, frowning slightly, and, sure enough, the sun was glinting off the glass Landling object as it sank through the water. Again.

He huffed in exasperation as he swam up to catch it for a second time. What was wrong with the Surface Seal? Was it ill? He swam up again with the Landling object, chattering angrily and worriedly at the Surface Seal as soon as his head broke the water. His dark eyes widened as he caught sight of a Landling riding on the Surface Seal, and he dived mid scolding, mind whirling and heart beating frantically as he turned somersaults in distress.

Landlings were _not good._ His memories agreed with that, both his own and the group memories that all Storm Children were granted by the Storms themselves. Those memories spoke of the Landlings trapping his kind on the Land, hiding their access to the Sea and binding them to a Landling form. The memories also showed how the Landlings killed their cousins, the seals the Storms favored and whose form they had chosen for their children. Landlings were the enemy; this he knew.

His other memories, his own memories, were wildly different. They had appeared only in flash, but the pain, the anger, the claustrophobia and the desperation they contained had been enough to send him fleeing beneath the waves with barely a first thought, let alone a second.

But it was his duty, the purpose the Storms had given him and his kind, to keep the Landlings from the Sea – which is why the Landling object must be returned to the Surface Seal, why he couldn't wait below the waves with it anymore. Either he brave the Landling riding the Surface Seal to return the Landling object, or he himself visit the Land. A fresh wave of helplessness washed over him at that prospect, and he shivered in the water, glaring up at the Surface Seal and gritting his teeth in determination.

_Why_ was there a Landling on the Surface Seal? Something rose in his Storm given memories, a tale passed on through his race since the Surface Seals first came to the Sea. A pact, a peace treaty, that the Surface Seals would carry the Landlings over the Seas, but that the Landlings would go no further than that into claiming the oceans as theirs. Angrily, he discarded the myth. Why was there a Landling on the Surface Seal _he_ was trying to _talk_ to? It wasn't fair!

Nevertheless, he had a duty. A part of him, the part tied to his old memories of pain, rebelled hatefully at that thought. He ignored that part as he always did; damn thing was never happy, always restless with just existing in the Sea, always resentful of duty, morbidly fascinated with the Land but deathly terrified of it at the same time.

Putting aside the conflicting emotions and focusing on the simple determination to get the Landling object _out_ of the Sea, the Selkie swam upwards. He lifted his head out of the water as close to the Surface Seal as he dared, hiding from the Landling in its shadow. He flared his nostrils, catching the scent of the Landling as he did so.

Frowning slightly, he sniffed again. The Landling smelled decidedly… odd. In a strangely familiar and comforting way. There were the usual Landling smells, of course – sweat, some vaguely fruity scent that made him wrinkle his nose in disapproval, outlandish scents of clothes and paint and many other scents that made up a Landling. But beneath it all… the Landling's scent had traces of a crackling, ever changing power that he _knew_ he recognized, that ran deep within his own scent, albeit in a different form. And at the core, the Landling smelt even more like he did, with a longing for the open water and the freedom of the Sea.

Could the Landling be a Storm Child trapped in Landling form, like the legends warned?

-

Jack decided that this was Not a Good Day.

First, some pilfering scoundrel, no doubt evil incarnate spat out from the blackest pits of hell itself (damn you, Barbosa) had taken his rum, leaving him only an empty bottle as a reminder. Then the bottle had vanished out of his hand, leaving not even a blasted _memory_ of the rum to comfort him in his time of loss. Had the Gods no pity?

As if in answer to his question, someone blew a raspberry at him. Scowling fiercely and pulling his single-shot pistol, Jack prepared to leap up and shoot the scallywag down to Davy Jones'. The shot might be saved for Barbosa, but rum was nothing to blow raspberries about.

When Jack did, however, leap up with braids flying and pistol cocked, he was faced with a flat, calm sea, empty and devoid of any and all targets. "Show yerself!" Jack commanded imperiously, the effect slightly spoiled by the way he waved his arms around to illustrate his point.

A slight splashing sound was all the warning he got before something heavy and wet landed on his foot, directly on the toe that he always seemed to stub and was most likely broken in several places. Muttering curses interspersed with threats to the invisible perpetrator, he picked up the bottle and studied it. Then he blinked and turned it over, stopping the end with his thumb so that the liquid inside (rum! _Rum!_a small part of him cackled delightedly) wouldn't pour out, he examined the base of the bottle.

Yes, it was the same bottle that had been evilly stolen from him; it had the scratches in the shape of a dog, if dogs were vaguely line shaped, and the person naming it a dog was stone drunk and delirious at the time. But since when had that stopped the famous and amazing Captain Jack Sparrow?

The afore mentioned Jack righted the bottle again, then licked his thumb delicately. After all, it would be just like the demons that no one else seemed to be able to see to torment him with the prospect of rum, when in actual fact it was – sea water.

The day had transmuted from Not Good to Officially Bloody Awful.

To express his eloquent feelings on the matter, Jack flung the bottle out of the boat, belatedly realizing that it may have been an idea to empty the bottle first. The water it sprayed on him made his _hat_ wet, and thus would never be forgiven. Never. Never, ever in a million years of the cursed existence that –

An angry chattering behind him made him whirl around, but by the time he had located the source of the disturbance, it was nothing but ripples on the surface, indistinguishable from the other waves in the sea. Smirking grimly, Jack turned his back on the source of the disturbance, adopting a relaxed stance that belayed his tensed state. The vaguest hint of sound reached his ears and he spun around, cutlass and pistol drawn and pointing, aiming to catch the trespasser red handed.

The empty sea bubbled innocently back at him. No, goddammit, mockingly. _Mockingly._ Jack favored it with one of his best drunken sneers, showing the waves _exactly_ what he thought of their childish games, and returned his cutlass and pistol to their holders.

Still facing the stern of the boat, just to disabuse the sea of the notion of trying anything behind his back, Jack took out his compass and checked his bearing. The arrow spun to face his chest, and, if he continued the trail, to Port Royal where, according to the magic and powers of the mind reading compass, he would find a ship to commandeer.

Smirking happily at that thought, Jack turned around, only to come face to eyes with a pair of deep green pools, so dark they appeared almost black.

The thing had the audacity to bark happily at him, dumping the infernal bottle on his toe again as it opened its mouth.

-

---

**A/N: **Slightly shorter than the previous chapter, but it seemed a good place to end it.

The term 'Storm Child' and the group memories connected with it is based on the original legend of the Selkie, but adapted by me. The legend of the Surface Seals is, as far as I can tell, entirely my own, but if you've seen something similar else where I'd love to hear about it.

As requested, here is Jack – and I hope I haven't disappointed with his portrayal. Jack is stubborn and difficult to write, partly because I don't even _know_ the words for half of what he does.

Rabid Lawn Gnome, Kakeru-chibi, Mr. Snuffles, angelkitty77, Child of Taboo, Evergreen Sceptre (in answer to your questions, yes, but you'll have to wait and see for how), Ie-maru (I can't imagine a non-pirate Jack. It doesn't compute. In fact, it flashes red lights at me and says: _error, error, prepare for spontaneous combustion_), SeulWolfe, cutelittlekitten18, The Plot Bunny Whisperer (I _love_ your name!), Riley Rose Russel, MagicallyInclined, lildevil425, BAD HERO, ManeSpotter, Ocelot12, Anon, lilkit, parseltonge girl, writerlover101 (Harry might go back, but then again, he might not ::_grins evilly::_. It's set in the Curse of the Black Pearl, but will take into account information from At World's End. And about Harry's powers… that'll be answered during the story), lemmesee, this fish flies, and The Red Dragons Order.

To all of you lot, Thank you! You've made me go around grinning so much my mum hid the sugar. Hope you like the update!


	3. The Sea Wolf

**Selkies and Sparrows**

**Summary: **When Jack Sparrow sailed into Port Royal that sunny day, it was his intention to commandeer one of those ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer his weaselly black guts out. What he ended up with was a young Selkie who used to go by the name of Harry Potter, but is currently in hiding from his friends, his enemies, and, most importantly, his destiny.

**Parings: **Jack Sparrow/Harry Potter (in other words, Slash. Non-slash people, ye be warned.)

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter isn't mine and neither, sad to say, is Pirates of the Caribbean, in any shape, form or manner except the one with purple tassels hanging from the corners.

---

"_If you want to leave, take good care  
Hope you make a lot of nice friends out there  
But just remember there's a lot, I'd beware"_

– _Cat Stevens, 'Wild World'_

-

The Sea Wolf

-

_Jack turned around, only to come face to eyes with a pair of deep green pools, so dark they appeared almost black._

_The thing had the audacity to bark happily at him, dumping the infernal bottle on his toe again as it opened its mouth._

-

It was a strange sight that finally crested the horizon and entered Port Royal. To the observer, they looked quite a dramatic pair – the Captain poised atop the mast, cutting a striking figure against the endless sea with his braids and open coat flying in the wind, and the elegant and sleek seal dancing before the bow like a herald leading a procession.

A dramatic pair indeed.

Of course, the observer would be too dazzled by awe – and quite possibly the bright sun overhead, if truth be told – to notice how the little boat leaked, and how Jack's stern and commanding gaze was not due to his serious, captain-ly demeanor, but to the fact that he was trying to communicate his thoughts to the seal below him with just his will power alone.

And really, why else would he be standing at the top of the mast if not to get as far away as humanly possible from the annoying… _creature_ that just _would not_ leave him alone? It was so logical that the observer should be sent to the brig for asking such a question in the first place.

Not that Jack was _scared_ of the scallywag – this is Captain – Captain! – Jack Sparrow. He doesn't _do_ scared. He runs away from it, as any fool knows. Where was he again?

The seal. They had had a slight disagreement when they first encountered each other, namely consisting of Jack giving a manly shout a sprawling elegantly backwards while kicking the bottle up, and the seal being hit with said bottle and squeaking (hah, _squeaking_. Point to Jack, seal thingy) as it dived back into the water. But not before whacking Jack's toe – his broken toe, mind you – with his tail in retaliation on the way there.

The result of the following meaningful discussion was a compromise – Jack would stay out of spitting distance, splashing distance, and general maiming distance, and his new companion would thus not be able to spit at him, splash him or generally maim him.

It was a good compromise.

But it needed leverage.

What did Jack have that the seal might want?

-

Racing through the water beside the Surface Seal, dipping in and out of the bow wave, alternatively swimming under the larger Seal's shadow and threading through the wave crests in front of it… If the Selkie had been able, he would have laughed in joy. He hadn't felt this… _happy,_ for almost longer than he could remember. When he searched his mind, he saw a flash of gold, the feeling of the wind rushing through his hair, the race and the thrills and the sheer freedom of speed… It wasn't that different, really, from what he felt now. And it was one of the few memories beyond his current life that didn't invoke pain, grief or restrictions and limitations piling up and trapping him down a path he never wanted –

He whistled sharply to distract himself from those thoughts, concentrating instead on his new Pack member. He had tried, after the slight confusion at first, to investigate the strange scent the Not-Landling had at his core. He hadn't been able to fully identify the scent – mainly because the Not-Landling had grabbed his muzzle in an iron grip and waved something shiny at him. He hadn't meant to hurt his Pack, but foreign instincts had risen too fast for him to stop them, prompting him to twist away and make an (only just) aborted attempt at attack.

Looking back, it was clear what had happened – his Pack member was acting in his position as an Alpha to show his authority. He just hadn't had an Alpha for so long, it had come as a shock. And now his Pack – his Alpha maybe? – was ignoring him as punishment for it. The Selkie allowed himself a quiet, disconsolate trill in the cool shadow underneath the Surface Seal before returning to leap amongst the spray again.

Being with a Pack made him so… content, so complete, that he felt he would do anything for his Alpha. He wouldn't put that at risk by being sulky about following orders, no matter how much he wanted to throw a tantrum and… blast the bejesus out of the practice dummies?

-

Maybe Seals liked rum?

-

Curious, the Selkie followed that thought, drawing his foreign memories closer for once instead of closing them off. They came at a rush, startling him and making him squeal in distress as he frantically struggled out of them, like swimming through tar or clawing his way to consciousness despite the pain and the suffocating weight of the memories –

And suddenly, as soon as it had happened, it was stopped in the cool flood of memories from the Storms. They filled him with calm surety, drowning the previous confusion as surely as it had almost drowned him. In his mind's eye, he saw images of fire falling from the sky to strike Surface Seals and free them from the pact with the Landlings, allowing them to sleep in peace beneath the waves. He saw dark, ominous clouds gather and violent winds call the Sea to war, while the Storms sounded their battle cries and light flashed in the sky. He saw the powerful, all encompassing Sea rise up like the vengeful Storms themselves, and crush the Landlings foolish enough to stand before it…

There was triumph and power woven into his joy as he whistled again, leaping forwards dramatically to somersault in the air. Blast the bejesus out of the Landlings, and let them know the true power of the Storms, the power their children wielded.

-

The almost vicious sound made Jack look down, wincing slightly as it seemed to pierce his ears. Below him, the boat was already half filled with water, so much so that the small bucket stashed under the mast was in danger of floating out over the side. Momentarily forgetting his resolution to stay out of maiming distance, Jack leapt down to land in the ankle deep water with a satisfying thud.

Drawn by the noise, his marine companion paused in his endless play to lift his head above the water questioningly, swimming along on his back to support himself. Jack looked up, and grinned evilly as a thought came to him.

"Payback time, subordinate Sea Wolf," he muttered, filling the bucket with salty water. A few seconds and a well aimed swing later, Jack was left feeling happily triumphant while the newly christened Sea Wolf fled beneath the waves with a startled squeal. His smug grin was wiped off his face a second later however when the seal retaliated, aiming the thin stream of sea water with almost unreal accuracy. And who knew there was that much space in a seal's mouth?

"Ack! Blepth! Stop, damnit!" he spluttered, dropping the bucket as he waved his arms in front of his face in an attempt to protect himself. Suddenly catching sight of something on the shore, he stopped, lowering his arms as he squinted to sea better. A squirt of water right up his nose reminded him of the seal's presence, and he responded sharply without thinking; "Enough, Wolf."

The stern and commanding tone made the Selkie stop immediately, dipping his head below the water in chagrin. Looking up to see what had caught his Alpha's gaze, his dark eyes took in the four dead bodies suspended from a rocky arch. Next to them hung a sign with strange patterns on it that he thought he should have recognized.

Even without knowing the significance of the misfortunate pirates and the warning sign, Wolf noticed Jack's reaction to them and saw how he touched his hand to his hat in what was clearly a Landling sign of respect. Diving below the water, the Selkie swam away from the boat a ways, then shot up to the surface with all the power he could muster. Breaking the surface, he flipped over backwards in the air, spraying water in all directions as he did so, before sliding smoothly back below the water.

When he surfaced again next to the boat and regarded his Alpha with warm, liquid eyes, Jack paused for a moment, watching him. Finally the pirate Captain seemed to come to a decision, and nodded solemnly. For once, he didn't even spoil the moment with any of his natural oddness.

-

---

**A/N: **The term 'Sea Wolf' was coined by Christopher Columbus in 1493, used to describe the Caribbean Monk Seal.

As promised yesterday, the next chapter is here! It's a short chapter, I know, but I thought you'd prefer this now rather than wait any longer. Hopefully, the next chapters shouldn't have such a long wait between them (for which I am really sorry… I think I tried about five different versions of this chapter before I found one I liked).

And the reviews… Wow! Thank you _sooo_ much! I bow down to you, oh great and mighty reviewers! _--Worship, worship-- _I'm glad that you all seem to like my Jack – I must be doing _something_ right with him!

Some of you asked some interesting questions, and I will definitely think about all of them – a couple made me rethink some of my plans for this story, noticing where I'd left things out. I won't answer them here, but they will be answered during the course of the story, never fear!

Also, do people like the style that shows what Harry and Jack are thinking? It moves slower than 'plain' text, but it's fun to write. I'm open to either option really, it depends on which you prefer.

Thank you to Ocelot12, this fish flies_ (Alas, procrastination. I knew him well)_, lemmesee, Kakeru-chibi, The Red Dragons Order, The Plot Bunny Whisperer, sea-cucumbers-are-evil, Rabid Lawn Gnome, SeulWolfe, Lazy-Hime, Serpent91, kagedfox, Wraith, Catzi, Come like shadows, Ie-maru, gemlou137, love2bug63670, kirallie_ (Wow, questions! Eh… can I get back to you with those answers?)_, Jigoku-Kouzanchou, Deserter _(Not quite this chapter, I'm afraid, but sometime soon he will)_, Ore no Naruto, BlueB, Shadow Bete Noire, Firehedgehog, A Brighter Dawn, lady sakura cosmos, Heavenly Dancer, Dadaiiro, demanicangel, Chibi of Many Names, XxRoadKillxX, storywriter10791, Touch of the Wind, likit _(Close guess with Jack's scent, although I'm afraid you won't find the real truth until Harry does. And nope, I don't mind at all. Ask away!)_, yllom21, Devious Ava, Inuyasha's hun, Merrymow, Wolven Spirits, iluvchocs, PissedOffFairy and Wraith (again!)

-


	4. Smithy

**Selkies and Sparrows**

**Summary: **When Jack Sparrow sailed into Port Royal that sunny day, it was his intention to commandeer one of those ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer his weaselly black guts out. What he ended up with was a young Selkie who used to go by the name of Harry Potter, but is currently in hiding from his friends, his enemies, and, most importantly, his destiny.

**Parings: **Jack Sparrow/Harry Potter (in other words, Slash. Non-slash people, ye be warned.)

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter isn't mine and neither, sad to say, is Pirates of the Caribbean, in any shape, form or manner except the one with JSHP monogrammed in black thread.

---

"_The moon on the mountains,  
The whisper through the trees,  
The waves on the water;  
Let nothing come between this and me."_

_Bryan Adams (Spirit, Stallion of the Cimarron), 'Somewhere I Belong'_

-

Smithy

-

_When he surfaced again next to the boat and regarded his Alpha with warm, liquid eyes, Jack paused for a moment, watching him. Finally the pirate Captain seemed to come to a decision, and nodded solemnly. For once, he didn't even spoil the moment with any of his natural oddness._

-

When Jack's boat glided towards the docks at long last, it became unique; first ever boat to sail underwater, with the billowing sail filled with currents of water as opposed to the flighty wind. To Jack, this was perfectly normal – stranger things had happened, for certain. Wolf found nothing wrong with it either, having noticed the problems the young Surface Seal was having and merely asking the Sea to help it along.

So when Jack stepped off his post atop the mast he was able to stride confidently forwards along the wooden planks without the slightest shame at the staring eyes, and having no idea that the old lady spitting on the ground did so to ward off any evil spirits he may have brought with him.

Despite her efforts, Wolf remained undeterred by this ancient form of protection and swam underneath Jack, looking up at him through the slats in the wood. He whistled periodically as if to make sure that, even though his Alpha couldn't see him that clearly, he wouldn't be forgotten.

"What?" the Harbourmaster said in confusion as Jack walked past him with no respect for his open ledger. "Hey! Hold up there, you," he called. Jack turned around with an eyebrow raised. Below him, Wolf chirped questioningly, but was ignored as the Harbourmaster continued; "It's a shilling to tie up your boat at the dock."

Both of them turned to look at the sunken boat. Wolf took the opportunity to surface outside the shadows under the docks again and wave a flipper frantically at Jack, chattering all the while. The Captain in question turned back to the Harbourmaster, ostensibly ignoring his companion while at the same time clearing his throat to distract the bemused man from Wolf's uncharacteristic display. When he had his attention again, he waved his hand in a frantic signal for Wolf to interpret as he pleased, but preferably _quietly_ and without drawing too much attention to himself. He almost sighed with relief as the seal's chatter died away.

The Harbourmaster pulled himself together, retreating to the safety of his official post. "And I shall need to know your name," he informed Jack pompously.

Jack paused a moment as if in thought, then reached a hand into one of his many pockets, inwardly praying that it was the right one. He retrieved three shiny silver coins and placed them on the official's open register.

"What d'ye say to _three_ shillings," he asked, using up his hands to emphasize the offer, "and we forget the name?"

Wolf took that opportunity to haul himself out of the water and land with a wet _splunk_ sound next to Jack. His lips were curled in warning as he glared at the unnerved Harbourmaster, and his whiskers almost quivered in the anticipation of protecting his Pack. Jack used one foot to unceremoniously shove him back into the water, smiling disarmingly the whole time.

"Hm?" he prompted.

Shaking his head to clear it, the Harbourmaster answered. "Welcome to Port Royal, Mr Smith." He snapped the ledger shut with a snap, the three shillings trapped between the pages.

With a half smile, Jack bowed his thanks. From another man, it might have looked mocking or out of place; on the unique pirate, the gesture seemed perfectly natural. As did the happy clinking of coins when he, out of the goodness of his heart, decided to give a home to the abandoned purse on the Harbourmaster's lectern.

---

Wolf ducked his head under the water as yet another Landling pointed and stared at him. A vague uneasiness rose in him with the gesture, of a time when people – Landlings – pointed at him, and whispered behind his back. But then the Sea returned, washing through his mind and pushing the memories away again. He watched through the rippling, distorting film of ocean water until his observer finally turned and walked on, bored of waiting to see if he would resurface.

With a strong beat of his flippers and tail, Wolf caught up with his Alpha. He swam just on the surface, head half out of the water so that he could watch his Pack member stroll casually along beside him. Pausing slightly to lift his head fully out of the water, he whistled questioningly.

"Almost there, Wolf," his Alpha responded with a glance down at him. He gestured with a Landling flipper towards a large Surface Seal napping in the shallows. "That's our ship, up ahead."

Wolf chirped in acceptance, diving under the water to swim on ahead and make sure the Surface Seal wouldn't mind swimming with them. Not that it would of course, but it never hurt to check. A temperamental Surface Seal sometimes dove beneath the waves and sulked for years at the bottom of the Ocean.

As he swam, Wolf reflected on the problem of being stared at, and decided he didn't like it. Neither did his Alpha, if the way he had tried to protect him from the Landling's stares earlier was any indication. Before his agitation could rise any further however, he felt the calming influence of the Sea wash over him again, and blinked in gratitude.

-

Jack strode confidently onto the dock. Look like you belong, that's the trick. Besides, he did belong – he was Captain Jack Sparrow. QED.

But apparently, some people hadn't received the message in a bottle. He'd have to make sure to send another one round soon.

"This dock is off limits to civilians," said one of Followers of the Enemy, shuffling forwards to stand in front of Jack and block his way. Follower of the Enemy number two stood beside him with a supposedly stern and intimidating glare.

Very nice of them to inform him of that detail, but, as stated previously, he was Captain Jack Sparrow. However, their politeness in sharing information deserved to be rewarded, and so he replied, "I'm terribly sorry, I didn't know. If I see one, I shall inform you immediately." Pleasantries dealt with, he attempted to walk past them towards his ship again. The Followers of the Enemy blocked him. Maybe they wanted some conversation?

"Apparently there's some sort of high toned and fancy to do up at the fort, eh?" he tried hopefully. Followers of the Enemy always seemed to be interested in what other Followers of the Enemy were doing. "How could it be that two upstanding gentlemen such as yourselves did not merit an invitation?" Upstanding gentlemen. That was a good one. Followers of the Enemy liked being told they were upstanding gentlemen. It reminded Jack slightly of a dog that wagged its tail when he told it it looked small and pathetic.

"Someone has to make sure this dock stays off limits to civilians," said Follower of the Enemy number one, breaking Jack out of his reverie. He sounded slightly less sure of himself though, so Jack, being that kind hearted soul that he was (said soul being sold to Davy Jones an entirely moot point here) hastened to reassure the poor thing.

"It's a fine goal, to be sure." A splashing sound to his left told Jack that Wolf had decided to reappear. "But it seems to me that a," he began, taking a step sideways, and being thwarted as the Followers of the Enemy shuffled to follow him, "a ship like that makes this one here a bit superfluous, really." So no one would mind, would they, if he borrowed 'this one here'. Honestly, they had so much, it was a Pirate's duty to liberate them of the responsibility of looking after it all. Think of the maintenance!

Follower of the Enemy number one answered him, once again crashing through Jack's thoughts without even a by-your-leave. Really, and people called Pirates discourteous.

"Oh, the Dauntless is the power in these waters, true enough," Follower of the Enemy number one conceded, "but there's no ship as can match the Interceptor for speed."

_Really now,_ Jack though, and resisted the urge to twirl his moustache. Wouldn't do to upset the Followers of the Enemy; poor things wouldn't know how to cope. Instead, he settled for adopting an expression of deep concentration, and stated, "I've heard of one, supposed to be very fast – nigh un-catcheable." And wasn't that annoying, when he was trying to retake it. Ships should know only to be un-catcheable for him, not for mutinous first mates. He realised suddenly that the Followers of the Enemy (and really, that was getting to be a bit of a mouthful. Couldn't they have been more considerate and chosen a shorter title?) were still waiting for a name. Luckily, they seemed to take his pause as a dramatic one, heightening suspense and all that. "The Black Pearl."

Unfortunately, the heavy and foreboding atmosphere was shattered when Follower of the Enemy number two snorted and said, "Well, there's no _real_ ship as can match the Interceptor." No respect, no respect at all. Cretin. From here on, Follower of the Enemy number two shall be named Cretin. Hear ye.

Luckily Follower of the Enemy number one answered him, saving Jack the task of correcting Cretin's misconceptions. "The Black Pearl is a real ship."

Cretin turned to his partner with a disbelieving expression. "No," he said, as if talking to a small child, "No it's not."

"Yes it is. I've seen it."

"You've seen it?"

Follower of the Enemy number one seemed to think for a bit, then with a decisive nod and a satisfied smile, "Yes."

"You haven't seen it."

"Yes, I have."

Jack rolled his eyes, his gaze going past the two to search out his Ship, which they had been so kindly guarding for him. He almost blinked when he saw the sleek seal sitting (or maybe lying?) on the dock behind the Followers of the Enemy, head turning to each one as they spoke.

"You've seen a ship with black sails," Cretin continued in the background, "that's crewed by the damned and captained by a man se evil that Hell itself spat him back out?" Ah yes, Jack could testify to that.

The Captain blinked again when he realised that his eyes and attention had slid neatly away from Wolf again, almost without him realising it. And, as far as he knew, he hadn't had any rum since that fateful bottle that had started this whole mess with the seal in the first place. And anyway, neither of the Followers of the Enemy had noticed Wolf in the slightest, and they were unlikely to have had any rum either.

"No," Follower of the Enemy number one said, and Jack absently nodded a thank you at him for answering his question. The Follower of the Enemy didn't notice, paying attention to his conversation with Cretin as he was.

"No," Cretin repeated, with an ever-so slightly mocking tone that his partner completely failed to grasp. Jack looked up at him, away from his scrutiny of the oblivious Wolf, and noticed that both of their attentions were locked squarely on their debate. Oh, how convenient.

"But I have seen a ship with black sails," Follower of the Enemy number one said happily as Jack slipped past them on silent feet, calling for Wolf with a hand motion as he went. The seal looked at the two Followers of the Enemy for a last time, before turning and moving after Jack. The pirate stopped to stare at the way he moved, seeming to bounce his body along with a loud _whuffling_ sound. He glanced back, but neither of the debaters seemed to hear the strange noise.

Jack shrugged, and sauntered beside Wolf up to the ship. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the seal disappear, blurred and hidden by a patch of sea-mist and the sound similarly dampened, but when he turned to look at Wolf head on again he simply saw the seal as he had always been. Shrugging again, Jack continued up the gang plank to the Interceptor. He was Captain Jack Sparrow, and anything was possible for him. Wolf was the companion of Captain Jack Sparrow, and thus anything was possible for him by proxy.

"Oh, and no ship that's not crewed by the damned and captained by a man so evil that Hell itself spat him back out could _possibly_ have black sails, and therefore couldn't _possibly_ be any other ship than the Black Pearl," Cretin said, the sarcasm practically dripping off his words and yet still managing to slip past his partner's attention. "Is that what you're saying?"

Follower of the Enemy number one nodded decisively, and said, "No."

"Like I said," Cretin said in a satisfied tone, "There's no _real_ ship as can match the Interceptor –" he stopped, looking round suddenly and realising that the strangely (and down-right suspiciously) dressed interloper had vanished.

By the time he had noticed the figure at the wheel of the Interceptor (standing there as if he owned the place!), his companion was already ahead of him, leaping dramatically over the rail with weapons drawn threateningly, and shouting out, "Hey! You!" Cretin rolled his eyes at the undignified words, and hurried to catch up before his friend got carried away again. "Get away from there!"

"You don't have permission to be aboard there, mate," Cretin added.

The stranger lifted his hands off the wheel with a disarmingly innocent expression that might perhaps have fooled a frog. Cretin blinked as a patch of mist near the stranger seemed to rear up threateningly, the uneasy thought of witchcraft and voodoo running through his mind. The man certainly looked strange enough for it.

"What's your name?" the question brought him back to reality, and Cretin stifled his foolish thoughts.

"Smith," the stranger replied brightly. "Or Smithy, if you like."

"What's your purpose in Port Royal, Mr Smith?" Cretin asked, placing just the right emphasis on his words to let the man-who-he-would-bet-his-right-leg-was-not-called-Smith know that he wasn't fooled.

"Yeah," his partner jumped in, "and no lies."

"Well then, I confess," 'Smithy' said in a tone of voice that immediately put Cretin on the alert. "It is my intention to commandeer one of these ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer my weaselly black guts out."

Silence followed his proclamation, as the two marines tried to absorb the fact that the man was _breaking protocol_ and _not doing what he was supposed to do_.

"I said no lies!" Follower of the Enemy number one said finally.

Cretin leaned over and said in an aside, "I think he's telling the truth."

"If he were telling the truth," was the reply in a tone of voice that Cretin would have called patronising, if he thought his friend knew what that was, "he wouldn't have told us."

"Unless, of course," 'Smithy' broke in, "he knew you wouldn't believe the truth even if he told it to you."

Cretin scowled at him, and could have sworn that the strange mist beside the stranger chuckled at him.

-

---

**A/N: **_Stares. _Wow. _Blinks, rubs eyes._ Over 100 reviews. Thanks!

Here, as promised, the next chapter – even within the fortnight limit I set myself! Aren't you proud of me? And it's a decent length this time, to make for a slightly shorter chapter before.

As for Cretin and Follower of the Enemy number one – they do have real names in the script (Cretin is Mullroy and Follower of the Enemy number one is Murtogg) but I'm not sure if they're ever mentioned in the film, so I left them out.

Also, if anyone has any suggestions for the quotes at the beginning of the chapters, I'd love to hear them.

Thank you to Ore no Naruto _(hope this is long enough!)_, Serpent91, Wolven Spirits, darknessmolded, Dadaiiro _(In the interests of slash, Harry won't be a seal forever)_, iluvchocs, lemmesee, Ie-maru, Utena-Puchiko-nyu, Firehedgehog, yllom21, kirallie _(Jack's the Alpha – although the boat one is an interesting idea…)_, AbeoUmbra _(Thankyou for those reviews! I'm glad you enjoy it! And I don't mind at all if you call me Darling. If I do use the dialogue, I'll be sure to credit you for it)_, MagicallyInclined, I-Y-T-Y, Touch of the Wind, Shivera, artemyl, Hima, Kin Pandun, Murphyangel, Kinlin Child of Youma, lady sakura cosmos, Laughing Cat, Fisi Mtima _(Honestly, I have no idea how long. Maybe… 20?)_, Capricia, Kiseki no Tenshi, Magpie quill _(probably a couple of months or so – not a huge amount of time), _Fire of the lioness, keske, Fate, lady firefox _(maybe… but then again, maybe not…)_ and DaughterofDeath.

Clearing up confusion on the Surface Seal – there are just boats, or ships. Selkies see them as a strange type of seal which grows from small boats to big boats (they don't realise they're actually different boats instead of older or younger ones) and eventually returns 'home' to the sea and beneath the waves when they sink.

Hope that helps!


	5. My Jack

**Selkies and Sparrows**

**Summary: **When Jack Sparrow sailed into Port Royal that sunny day, it was his intention to commandeer one of those ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer his weaselly black guts out. What he ended up with was a young Selkie who used to go by the name of Harry Potter, but is currently in hiding from his friends, his enemies, and, most importantly, his destiny.

**Parings: **Jack Sparrow/Harry Potter (in other words, Slash. Non-slash people, ye be warned.)

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter isn't mine and neither, sad to say, is Pirates of the Caribbean, in any shape, form or manner except the one with seals stitched in the corner.

---

"_You won't cry for my absence, I know -  
__You forgot me long ago.  
__Am I that unimportant…?  
__Am I so insignificant…?"_

_Evanescence__, 'Missing'_

-

My Jack

-

"_Unless, of course," 'Smithy' broke in, "he knew you wouldn't believe the truth even if he told it to you."_

_Cretin scowled at him, and could have sworn that the strange mist beside the stranger chuckled at him._

-

Wolf was bored.

He knew better than to question his Alpha, of course, but that didn't in any way negate the fact that he'd been talking to the Landlings for an _eternity_, utterly and completely ignoring Wolf while he did so.

The Selkie had tried talking to the Surface Seal below him to alleviate his torture, but the bull hadn't replied. It was probably resting, and even Wolf knew better to bother such a large and powerful bull as the one that currently carried them. That was another thing he didn't understand about the Landlings – that they couldn't tell the difference between the bulls and the cows among the Surface Seals. Didn't they know that any race needed _both_ to continue? Where did they think they the Surface Seal pups came from?

Wolf shuddered as a horrible thought struck him. What if the Landlings made the same mistakes with their own species?

But then again… Why should he care? He hadn't, not so long ago. Before he'd met his Alpha, he'd only cared about the Sea. It was right to only care about the Sea, wasn't it? And just now, it had felt so wrong that the Landlings could stare at him, could see him and point at him. He was a Storm Child, he belonged to and with the Sea, and no where else. That was why the Sea had sent her mists, to cover him and conceal him, hide him away from the Landlings so that he could go back to the Sea and the open ocean. It was a mistake to come this far, a mistake to tie himself to an Alpha – a _Landling_ Alpha at that. Why should he bind himself to a Pack, trap himself with duties and obligations? Why should he deny himself the Sea, deny the smell of salt on the wind, the raucous cry of a seagull above the crashing sound of the surf on the rocks, the blessed coolness and warmth and all encompassing safeness of the water, and the freedom, the freedom of an empty horizon as far as the eye can see…

The sudden impact of hitting the water shook Wolf out of his daze. The Surface Seal was taller than he had anticipated, and in his almost drugged state, he hadn't entered the water as smoothly as he should have done. His entire front stung from the ungraceful bellyflop.

Wolf blinked a few times to regain his bearings, trying to remember what had made him fall in the first place, but soon dismissed the elusive answer in favour of a more pressing concern. Where was his Alpha…?

-

"…And then, they made me their king," Jack explained to his captive audience. He began to continue his story, but was interrupted by a shout a little way behind him. He turned sharply, eyes locking on the falling figure, hand reaching for Wolf seemingly on instinct. The seal shrugged him off, and Jack would be annoyed at being ignored if there weren't more pressing matters to be dealt with. And if Wolf hadn't began plummeting towards the water with a strange, dazed look – one that Jack recognised from past competitions with people who couldn't hold their rum properly.

"Will you be saving her?" he asked. A loud splash signified Wolf's entry to the sea, and both sailors jumped, one of them (Jack couldn't be bothered in distinguishing the two any more) looking around frantically for the source of the unexpected sound. Jack sighed, already reaching up to remove his hat. "Some pride of the King's navy you are," he muttered. What had they expected Wolf to do when he jumped, fly? "Here, don't lose these," he commanded, pushing various effects at the two, before launching himself into the water with much more grace than his companion had. But then, he _was_ Jack Sparrow, after all. Able to stagger through a hail of bullets while absolutely stoned on Rum, and receive only a broken toe in the way of injuries.

Wolf spun towards him as he hit the water, eyes clear of the strange glaze that had claimed them earlier, and whistled happily. He even begun what, to Jack's untrained eye, looked like dizzy convulsions in the water as he circled his newly found Alpha, chattering fast enough that Jack was half surprised he didn't choke.

Grumbling at the absurd antics of his marine companion, Jack reached out and slapped the seal's side, pointing forwards to where a pale shape sank slowly through the water. Wolf understood immediately and, pausing only to whistle his comprehension, sped forwards with a few flicks of his tail.

The strange shockwave pulsed through the water just as the seal reached his destination, leaving him hovering, stunned, a few yards away from the drowning figure. Jack spared him a glance, noting with annoyance that the glazed look was back, and that he could ignore Wolf's help in saving the girl. He reached forwards, ripping off the stupidly extravagant dress. Really, anyone could see that it wouldn't help her to swim, or even float.

Once she was free of the no-doubt expensive contraction, Jack swam upwards, sparing a glance back at Wolf as he did so. His subordinate had seemingly recovered from his stupefied state, but was now writhing against the sandy ocean bead. From what he could see, the seal was frantically pushing his head into the sand, as if trying to use the abrasive substance to remove the skin of his forehead.

Jack would've paused to stare at Wolf's strange actions, but he had a wench to save and a short timespan in which to do so.

Fifteen minutes later, as he looked around the dark blacksmith's forge with his hands shackled, he blamed Wolf entirely for the whole situation. If he'd had some _backup_ when facing Commodore Fancy Pants, he wouldn't have got himself into this mess. Not that he, the great Jack Sparrow, needed backup. He'd just been… distracted, wondering what had got into Wolf. Besides, he thought, spotting a hammer left out oh-so invitingly, there wasn't a mess in the world capable of defeating Captain Jack Sparrow.

-

Wolf swam in agitated circles in the shallows, half an ear on the Landlings as their Alpha gave orders to hunt down a Jack Sparrow.

_My Alpha. Jack. My Jack._

He rolled over in distress, and tried calling for his Alpha – his Jack – again. The deep sound should have carried far enough through the water to reach his Jack anywhere, but still, there was no reply. To Wolf, that meant only one thing; _The Landlings have him._

Uninvited, pictures and images from the Sea and the Storms washed over him, showing what happened to those the Landlings took. Showing the Landlings hunting them, stealing their pups, killing them and throwing their skinless corpses aside. As he swam in frantic, haphazard patterns through the water, he saw metal claws tearing at the sea bed, diseased blood spreading over the waves and coating them black, barren, poisoned seas stretching across every horizon.

_This is what will happen, _the Sea whispered to him.

_This is what you were brought here to change, _the Storms said.

They washed through him, drowning his mind in endless oceans of images and warnings. He wasn't swimming in circles anymore; instead, he hung unnaturally still in the water, despite the currents and waves that almost seemed to caress him as they passed. His anger rose in response to the images, and he bared his teeth, obsidian eyes glaring up through the water at the Landlings. The Abominations. And just as the Sea had sent the mists to hide him from their unworthy eyes, now the Storms sent the winds to ravage the shore.

Wolf shrieked his anger through the water, the heady power of the Storms singing in his blood like a tidal wave. _No more,_ he hissed, snapping his tail down harshly through the water. The Sea almost crowed in victory as it sent a wave to crash against the docks, hard enough to shake the solid wood. Wolf was blind to the people's cries, his mind turned instead to vengeance. He would punish the Landlings for what had been done to them, destroy the Abominations before they could hurt him anymore.

A stray thought swam up through the chaos of his mind calling weakly for consideration. _My Jack,_ it pleaded. The Sea picked it up and smothered it in a wave, and Wolf growled again as he remembered – the Landlings had taken his pack, had dared to hurt what was not theirs to hurt.

-

On the docks, a young girl, perhaps seven or eight years old, tripped on the slippery wood as she tried to flee. An angry wave towered over her prone form, preparing to fall and crush her for the crime of being a Landling.

-

_My Jack,_ the thought called again, shouting through the turmoil the Sea had brought to Wolf's mind. _My Jack, my Jack myJack myJackmyJackmyJackmy-_

And Wolf remembered. Remembered how he had been unable to follow his Alpha because of the pain he'd felt – both in his mind and his forehead. How his Jack had been taken by the Landlings because he had been too focussed on his shields, battered by the wave of – _Dark magic, a part of his mind remembered, Made my scar hurt again _– power. Even when the foul power had passed him, his shields were cracked and weakened, his mind open and undefended.

_But it is what you were brought here to do,_ the Sea called with the last of the hold it had over him. Wolf shook his head to rid him of the last wisps of fog clouding his mind, and whined his confusion and denial.

_My Jack,_ he repeated, clutching onto the memory of his Alpha like a lifeline, a protection against the seductive influence of the Sea. Unwillingly, the Sea retreated from his mind, pushed back by his returning mental shields. Occulumency barriers built to withstand the Dark Lord rose around his mind in an impenetrable barrier, made stronger by the anchoring strains flowing through them like a tracery of spider webs. _My Jack,_ they said, holding the Sea at bay.

-

A man picked the girl up, dropping his basket to do so and scrambling back away from the wave that surely would have killed the child. It fell with a seemingly angry impotence at causing no damage, but no more waves were forthcoming. The unnatural storm subsided around the pair as quickly as it had risen, leaving the man to stare in bewilderment as the young girl gripped his arm in fear.

-

---

**A/N: **Eheh heh… Two months isn't _bad_, is it? I mean, it's not good, but it's not _bad_ bad. Maybe only _slightly_ bad, because at least it's still in the same _year, _so… don't hurt me?

And lookee! We have plot! Although still no human Wolf/Harry. Next chapter, I promise.

Thank you to Ore no Naruto, Fisi Mtima, yaoi kitsune, Regen, Kin Pandun, Capricia, Shivera _(That is a very interesting question. Hmm…)_, Devious Ava, XxRoadKillxX _('Harry's gang' probably won't show up. But then again…)_, gizachick _(Next one! Promise!)_, Firehedgehog, lady sakura cosmos, Fire of the lioness, Kakeru-chibi, iluvchocs, Juliper, Serpent91, DaggersBloodPain, keske, I-Y-T-Y, parseltonge girl, loko-ka, Kiseki no Tenshi, kirallie, blackpanther-690, Gertrud-Eveline _(Thanks for the quote! I'll save it for a chapter where it would fit best. Look out for it!)_, handadeath, lemmesee _(You know how pirates are about stealing things. Poor Harry)_, Ie-maru, Murphyangel, Dream's Abyss, Asha Pasha, Kinlin Child of Youma, Lady Starlight2, black blade1, moonlit dew, Burning LilyRose, luinloriel _(-seizes onto excuse- Yes! The plot bunnies are hiding!)_, yllom21, Weasleygirl, Merrymow, geka0taitsume0taikaiyou, Goth Child of Zyon _(Awkward indeed. Mwaha)_, MissNys, Lesdarian _(There are a couple in my faveorites, I think)_, chineseartist, Rose-Aislin _(he leaves Hogwarts age 17/18, and has a few months alone before meeting Jack, so he's now around 18)_ and The Elven Archer of Rivendell.

Happy New Year's Eve! (Is it still New Year's eve when it's in the morning? Or just in the evening?)

**A/N edit 01/01/08:** Some people seem confused about the boy on the docks being Harry. To clear this up, I've changed it to a girl – Harry is still stuck as Wolf, for this chapter. The boy-now-girl is some other character.

Sorry about the confusion!


	6. In the Name of Rum

**Selkies and Sparrows**

**Summary: **When Jack Sparrow sailed into Port Royal that sunny day, it was his intention to commandeer one of those ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer his weaselly black guts out. What he ended up with was a young Selkie who used to go by the name of Harry Potter, but is currently in hiding from his friends, his enemies, and, most importantly, his destiny.

**Parings: **Jack Sparrow/Harry Potter (in other words, Slash. Non-slash people, ye be warned.)

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter isn't mine and neither, sad to say, is Pirates of the Caribbean, in any shape, form or manner except the one with does anyone actually read these?

---

"_I've been watching you from a distance,  
The distance sees through your disguise,  
All I want from you is your hurting."_

_Evanescence__, 'Give unto me'_

-

In the Name of Rum

-

_My Jack__, he repeated, clutching onto the memory of his Alpha like a lifeline, a protection against the seductive influence of the Sea. Unwillingly, the Sea retreated from his mind, pushed back by his returning mental shields. Occulumency barriers built to withstand the Dark Lord rose around his mind in an impenetrable barrier, made stronger by the anchoring strains flowing through them like a tracery of spider webs. __My Jack__, they said, holding the Sea at bay._

-

Wolf moved almost on autopilot, swimming under the docks and around to a small beach. For the first time in months, his mind was free of the narcotic influence of the Sea, the boundaries between where he ended and the oceans began no longer blurred. For the first time in months, his mind was clear and rational, thoughts and logic no longer tangled and smothered. For the first time in months, he could recognise that he was not the Sea, that he existed as an individual rather than merely a part of the whole.

He felt trapped within his own mind, and he hated it.

Were he to try and survive in the Sea as he was now, he would surely die without Her protection. He could not hunt; he had no territory; he could not defend himself from predators. Without his connection to the Sea, he was nothing but a common Monk seal. He snorted at the irony of it; how many times had he wished to be just that? How many times had he lied to his friends, told them that 'nothing but a common Monk seal' was all that he was?

He wondered it they saw through him in the end. Would they have been able to? Did they have the knowledge, or the instinct to notice that he wasn't what he said he was?

He frowned, dark green eyes narrowing.

Did they?

He… couldn't remember.

-

In a ramshackle hut on the banks of a misty river, a dark skinned woman scowled as she angrily threw the chipped mirror aside.

"So close," she growled, picking up a tangled knot of herbs and plants and prying them almost viciously apart. For a brief second she entertained thoughts of doing the same to the boy, but knew she would never act on her fantasies. As naïve and trusting as her cousin to the north was, should she break the bargain the two of them had agreed on, she would not receive a second chance.

She cast the now shredded leaves over a wide basin of sea water, her disgruntlement at having to use such methods to practice her art all but faded over so many years. Her mercurial nature however remained as strong as ever; evidenced as her anger and frustration changed to a mischievous, almost sadistic pleasure as she read the leaves.

"But then again, little Mortal sea wolf, then again…"

-

Wolf – and how that name jarred, now that he knew he had a different one – had reached the beach, and was now hauled out on the hot sand. Beyond those actions, he was at a loss for how to continue. He had tried searching his memories for some mention of his friends or his past – a name, a face, _anything_ – but he had nothing. It was as if all his memories of his personal life had been destroyed, leaving only dry facts behind. He could remember the incantations to countless spells, but not who taught them. He could remember how to cast them, but not when he had learnt them. He could remember that Dementors affected him particularly badly because of his past, but not _what_ in his past.

He could not remember who his friends were, what his family was like, where he lived. He tried to focus on an image of his mother – reasoning that mothers leave such an impression on their children, he must have _some_ memory of her – but saw only meaningless green light.

He had tried to call up his magic, to push it through familiar channels and release his Animagus form. Instead of answering his command, his magic stirred just beyond his senses, taunting him with the promise of his memories and his identity. He tried again, calling louder within his mind. This time, his magic surged, but where it should come from within him, spilling out from his core, it battered against his Occulumency barriers from outside them and was halted. He extended his senses as far as he could, trying to reach his magic, but what he found there chilled him.

The Sea had taken it, wrapping itself so completely around his core during the months he'd allowed it free access to himself that when he had banished it's influence, it had taken his magical core with it. Most likely, it also had his memories, given how it had tried to suppress his thoughts when it fought for control.

He didn't even know that was possible – it _shouldn't_ be possible without dieing a painful death. Then again, he had feeling these sorts of things happened quite often around him. For some reason he got an image a facing down a monster with a toothpick and a hat. Was that a memory? Maybe it was normal for him, before all of this happened.

But whether or not he knew where or how his magic and memories had been taken, it didn't change the fact that he was a seal with no way of changing back to human. He frowned slightly as a fragment of knowledge came to the forefront of his mind. When he was researching Selkies, he'd read that they could shed their skins to take human form. He hadn't paid attention to it at the time – why should he? He could just change out of his Animagus form all together – and so had no idea how it would work, but maybe…

_Change,_ he commanded, imagining the feeling of magic flowing through him, and hoping it worked. If it didn't, then he'd feel like an idiot for nothing. _Change._ He ignored the emptiness, the lack of resistance that told him his magic was not obeying, and simply willed it to happen. _Change._ He shifted slightly on the sand as a strange itchy feeling began to spread along his skin, hoping that was a good sign and not an outbreak of plague or something similar. _**Change.**_

And then he could focus on nothing but the pain as a dam somewhere inside him burst. He couldn't have stopped the change now even if he had tried, if he had been able to concentrate beyond the pain of his bones snapping and realigning, of being agonizingly flayed so a new skin could grow in place of his seal skin, of muscles and ligaments forcing themselves into existence.

_Let us in, _a voice whispered, calming, soothing, promising blessed relief from the pain. It was countered by an animalistic growl from his mental walls; _My Jack._

_But we can help,_ the voice called from outside his mind.

_Fuck __**off**_, he snarled at the Sea through the haze of pain and the red veil of blood clouding his vision. He lashed out wildly with his mind, and the Sea's voice and presence disappeared from his consciousness. He was left alone to thrash in the leathery constraints of his seal skin, with only the pain to keep him company. _You better be worth this, Jack,_ he thought.

He didn't know how much later it was that he lay there, panting and practically suffocating in the stifling skin. He gathered what little strength he had in his protesting muscles, feeling along the inside of the skin and practically ripping it open when he found the slit in the stomach. The first thing he did when he struggled out of the whole bloody mess was to throw up – violently – on the sand.

"God," he gasped, voice harsh and scratchy from disuse. "I am _never_ doing that again." As he held himself up precariously on foreign hands and knees, he could have sworn he heard the sea laughing at him.

-

After a rough sea water bath to remove the blood coating him and his seal skin, he felt a lot more human and a lot less like a reanimated corpse. He spent a while staring at the murky reflection of his face in a nearby rock-pool, trying to see if it brought up any memories. Unfortunately, all he could see of it was that he looked… human. Although, even in the rock-pool mirror his reflection was clear enough to look wrong. It looked too soft, too young and innocent. A memory flashed through his mind, not an image or a scene of his past, but a memory of how things should have been.

He was a soldier. He was all hard edges and weathered features. He was an _adult_, not some child who looked like his voice hadn't even broken. He didn't _want_ to be this Selkie boy, he wanted to be the Harry he'd trained so hard to become, he –

"Harry?"

He tried it out, rolling the word around his tongue. "Harry…" He broke out into a grin. "My name is Harry," he announced proudly.

"Well then, Mr. Harry," someone said behind him, making Harry whirl around in surprise and stare at the naval soldier. "Would you care to explain you presence here, and perhaps the whereabouts of your clothes?" Harry blinked in bewilderment, before his brain clicked and he remembered that he was now human, and humans wore clothes. His blush could almost rival the soldier's crimson coat in colour.

"I, uh," he stammered, trying vainly to force his blush down. "I lost them," he invented, looking up at the uniformed man with as pitiful an expression as he could. If he was stuck in the body of a 'little-boy-lost' character, he might as well use whatever weapons it offered him.

Harry could have hugged the man as, with a sigh, he took off scarlet coat and handed it over. "Wear that for now, while I take you back to explain your situation at the fort," he said, turning slightly to give Harry his privacy as he put the coat on.

Harry held looked over the coat – _more like a jacket, _he thought unhappily - with a criticising eye. By his reckoning, while the tails at the back of the coat would cover him fine, the front was _way_ too short. "Better than nothing," he mumbled to himself disgruntledly as he shrugged it on, wedging his seal skin between two rocks while the man's head was turned to hide it and keep it safe. He didn't particularly want to explain why he had it – for all he know, seals were worshipped as deities here and killing one was treasonous or something. He doubted it, but knowing his luck, nothing good would happen if the skin was found.

"If you wouldn't mind?" the naval soldier prompted with a slightly impatient tone. Harry nodded and scrambled up, standing next to the man and checking surreptitiously how far down the coat-jacket reached. He was happily surprised that it covered everything (as long as he didn't decide to do acrobatics down the street), but that raised the question – was the soldier really tall, or was his quasi-Animagus form _really _short?

Harry glanced up at the soldier now striding down the street ahead of him, easily a foot taller than he was. He swallowed nervously. _Don't let me be short,_ he prayed silently, but he doubted anyone would listen. Such is life. He was distracted from his thoughts as his bare feet registered something warm and… soft… _Don't think about it, don't think about it, oh please don't think about it._

Harry stopped suddenly at an intersection of two streets. There was nothing important about them, nothing in the dirty, narrow streets to separate them from any other dirty, narrow street in the port. Even so, Harry could have sworn he felt _something_.

The soldier made an impatient sound. Harry mumbled an apology and caught up with him, glancing over his shoulder uncertainly. He stopped again only a few paces later, whipping his head around to stare wildly in all directions.

"What the hell?" His eyes widened as the feeling – a strange, mental pulse now that it was strong enough to identify – happened again. "Mental… Occulumency!" he muttered, ignoring the soldier who was now looking at him with a mixture of irritation and that expression reserved for dealing with madmen and really weird people.

The third (fourth?) time, Harry turned his focus onto his Occulumency barriers, closing his eyes to concentrate better. Without the distractions of the outside world, he felt the pulse so clearly he could make out the words –

_My Jack. My Jack. My Jack._

"Jack!" he yelped, his happiness at finally finding someone he knew overriding all sense of caution. His feet carried him without him having to command them, following some unknown directions as he all but flew back down the street to the intersection, and onwards down another path. He briefly spared a thought to be thankful the soldier – now shouting after him through the crowd – was so much taller than him. It not only avoided an embarrassing situation with the jacket, but also that he could get through smaller spaces and so lose his one-man entourage. He only hoped the guy didn't need his coat back too badly.

The constant chant in his head – _myJackmyJackmyJack_ – tapered off, leaving him standing in front of what appeared to be a blacksmith. Grinning, he stepped inside, announcing his presence with an exuberant "Jack!"

The pirate Captain edged out of the shadows wearing a vaguely quizzical expression. His hands were still chained, one raised and clutching a hammer, the other dangling from it by the handcuffs.

"Who in Rum's name are you?"

-

---

**A/N: **Four days! You see that? _Four days!_

This, loyal readers, is my peace offering for making you wait so long for the last one. But still, four _days!_ Not even a week! And it's a decent length this time! And, better still, we have a **Human Harry!** Well, humanish.

Oh, and if anyone didn't catch it, I edited the last chapter because some of you were confused about the boy on the docks being Harry. That boy, who is now a girl, is just an incidental character. Sorry about that.

Thank you to Ore no Naruto _(First again! Wow!)_, Serpent91, keske _(How would a bouncer react to a seal, I wonder…)_, Devious Ava, Feramore _(Pretty much yeah – there's only so much change that Harry can account for)_, kagedfox, Kayjay Dee, Zeroow, Fisi Mtima, the-dreamer4, SaphirePhoenix _(Nooo! You mustn't anger the Rum!)_, Ie-maru, Wolven Spirits, Fate, Firehedgehog, Lady Prince, KingofLoosePages _(If 'forever' were two months, then I'd laugh at all those evil people who want to 'live forever')_, I-Y-T-Y, venusserenade, Dream's Abyss, Kin Pandun, HoshitheHorse, Kiseki no Tenshi, lady sakura cosmos, Nobody'sNobody, handadeath, Miz Valeer, Crydwyn, Kanika Keket, Silvermane1, drakonka, Fleetfoot, magma, Simply Bulisen _(Ack! Jack/Norington BAD IMAGES. –whimper- you gave me nightmares…)_


	7. Where now?

**Selkies and Sparrows**

**Summary: **When Jack Sparrow sailed into Port Royal that sunny day, it was his intention to commandeer one of those ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer his weaselly black guts out. What he ended up with was a young Selkie who used to go by the name of Harry Potter, but is currently in hiding from his friends, his enemies, and, most importantly, his destiny.

**Parings: **Jack Sparrow/Harry Potter (in other words, Slash. Non-slash people, ye be warned.)

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter isn't mine and neither, sad to say, is Pirates of the Caribbean, in any shape, form or manner except the one with does anyone actually read these?

--

"_I linger in the doorway,  
__Of alarm clocks screaming, monsters calling my name.  
__Let me stay where the wind will whisper to me,  
__Where the raindrops as they're falling tell a story."_

_Evanescence__, 'Imaginary'_

-

Where now?

-

_The pirate Captain edged out of the shadows wearing a vaguely quizzical expression. His hands were still chained, one raised and clutching a hammer, the other dangling from it by the handcuffs._

"_Who in Rum's name are you?"_

-

Harry opened his mouth to answer. And paused, closing it again. "Uh…" What could he say? Somehow he didn't think it would go down too well if he just said that he was the seal who followed him here, except he's not really a seal, he's a Selkie and he thinks that's some sort of sea spirit in seal form, except he's not that either, he's a human who became a Selkie and got trapped, and then he wanted to follow Jack but he went on the land so he took his skin off and became a human Selkie and Jack called him Wolf but he thinks his name is Harry, although he's not too sure because the Sea stole all his memories.

"Oh," Jack said, nodding intelligently and lowering his hammer.

"…What?"

"What you said," Jack elaborated, appraising the donkey in the turn-stile. Harry blinked, non plussed.

"I said that out loud?" he asked, staring at Jack in confusion. The captain shrugged, now moving his gaze onto the large cog-wheels above him.

"Hand me that poker, will you?"

"And you understood it?" Harry said incredulously, taking Jack's shrug as confirmation. He slid a poker out of its stand, wincing slightly at the scraping sound it made. Jack paused in the act of taking the metal rod from him, looking at Harry bemusedly.

"Didn't you?" he asked with what _seemed_ to be an honestly curious expression as he nonchalantly held the poker in the forge fire. Then again, why settle for honest when you can have reliable dishonesty after just a lifetime or two of innate Jack Sparrow-ness?

Harry blinked, then shook his head in bewilderment. Bringing Jack and reason together was an exercise in futility, and he was just seeing the beginning of it. He frowned at the glowing poker in Jack's hand. "Hey, what're you going to – **YAAHHH!**"

Harry leapt backwards, narrowly avoiding being tripped up by the long wooden spokes attached to the donkey's turn stile, his ears still ringing from the animal's pained cry. This may or may not have been a contributing factor to the fact that his scrambled leap sent him crashing into and through a wooden door behind him, landing in what seemed like a closet.

"Hey, clothes!" he muttered snarkily to himself, rubbing his head where it had hit the door. The small cupboard didn't hold much – maybe one pair of trousers, a couple of shirts and an overall – and they were clearly work clothes, stained with soot and burn marks. Nevertheless, beggars can't be choosers; Harry shrugged into the clothes as best he could while in the small space (unconventional Jack may be, but Harry still didn't fancy sprawling on the floor half dressed in front of him).

"You think it wise boy, to cross blades with a pirate?"

Harry froze, halfway through rolling up the trouser legs to his ankles.

"You threatened Miss Swan."

Oh, _crap._ That wasn't Jack's voice.

"Only a little," and that was Jack – Harry could practically hear the smirk in it.

His mind raced, keeping time with his heart and – _ohmygod those are swords I can hear swords ohshitohshitohshit – _the almost choreographed sounds from the forge. He was torn; half of him wanted to run out and help Jack, his Alpha, his – friend? He still retained the knowledge of how to fight even if he couldn't remember where he learnt it. The more rational side of him cautioned that this body hadn't learnt; the proportions would be wrong, the muscle memory would be lacking. Besides, he had no magic; even when not consciously using it, his magic had always been a source of strength to him. It made him that little bit stronger, that little bit faster; it could sense a threat he hadn't and react faster than he could.

Harry was only just now realising how much the Sea had crippled him, and he didn't even know why. Hell, he didn't know how he'd ended up wherever he was in the first place, and he had a foreboding feeling that the answers weren't as simple as retrieving his memories from the Sea.

A loud _whuff_ sound drew Harry from his disheartening realisation, in time to hear the strange voice say in disgust, "You cheated."

"Pirate," Jack replied as if stating the obvious.

_Oh yeah – Jack's a criminal. _"Just great," Harry mumbled, leaning his head against the wall behind him. The only person he had any connection to in this whole situation was a donkey-torturing madman who was apparently a pirate and lawbreaker to boot.

_**Ker-THUD.**_

A captured and unconscious pirate and lawbreaker. What next, cursed by dark magic and the heathen gods? Sold his soul to the resident devil of this place and time?

_My Jack,_ a part of his mind whimpered.

_A thief and possible murderer, who preys off the poor and has fewer morals than a tapeworm,_ Harry replied scathingly, diligently ignoring the sound of Jack being taken away by the soldiers,

_You're wrong, _Wolf – because who else lurked around Harry's mind other than his Selkie half? – answered, _He's my Jack and I like him._

Harry ignored Wolf, instead focusing on a bigger problem.

"What the hell do I do now?"

-

Harry waited a while in the cramped closet until he was sure everyone had gone. Then he waited further, unsure and almost uncaring about what he would do if he did leave the cupboard. Wolf's voice had grown quieter, until the Selkie was barely more than a whisper along his Occulumency walls, still calling bleakly for Jack. Without his Animagus' buoyant presence in his mind, Harry felt – empty. It was a feeling he felt he should recognise – _if I don't care, it won't hurt when they die –_ but from where, he couldn't remember. The answer, like so many in his life around now, lay in the sea.

With no other options, Harry unfolded slowly, wincing slightly at the cramp in his legs as he stood and slowly pushing open the heavy door.

_**Creeeeaaaa –**_

He froze, door half open, cursing silently. After what seemed like an eternity, although was most likely not more than a few minutes, he deemed it safe enough to continue.

_**- aaaakkkk.**_

"And I love you too," he muttered to the door, not bothering to close it behind him. No point in making any more noise, after all. He headed for the way out, bare feet padding silently on the earthy floor, but a slight shine caught his eye. Closer inspection revealed it to be swords – dozens of swords, some with scabbards, some with belts, some obviously worn from practice. He hesitated; he knew how to use a sword, and it probably be sensible to carry one, but couldn't be sure that this body would fight properly. He didn't want to discover in the middle of a fight that he was as weak as a kitten – and besides, the swords weren't his, and whoever he'd been before, 'criminal' didn't sit well with him.

"Damnit," he mumbled, finally compromising and reaching for one of the less extravagant swords. He tied it hurriedly on his belt as he darted out the door and onto the moonlit street. Once there, he half traced his steps and half followed some sort of internal instinct to guide him back to the Sea and his skin.

The tide had gone out; Harry knelt perhaps halfway up the beach, prying his sealskin gently from its hiding place. For a while, he just knelt there, staring at it bleakly.

"Where now?"

Returning to the Sea was out of the question – he'd only just got his mind back, and wasn't willing to lose it again. And without making that sacrifice, he'd die within a week, most likely of starvation. He doubted he could go home either – wherever home may be – without his memories or magic, both of which lay with the Sea.

So he couldn't go back. Logically, all that remained would be to go forwards. Build a new life here, at least until he found a way to outwit the Sea, and try not to cause too much trouble.

Harry got a sudden image of himself, old and bent with milky eyes and nothing to show for his life but a moth-eaten sealskin. The image almost made him recoil with horror, and without realising it, he clutched his skin protectively to his chest.

"No," he whispered. The truth was something he'd half realised back at the forge, curled in cupboard while Jack was captured. As much as he hated it, he _couldn't_ escape the Sea. If he wanted to live anything other than a pale mockery of life, he needed his magic, needed to know who he was even if not how to get home. This emptiness he felt now, he knew he'd lived with it before – _his eyes were pale and bloodshot, and they worried about his health but he had to train more and train harder and never let the dreams reach him –_ but he couldn't do it again.

"What do you want from me?" he asked brokenly. The waves rolled up the beach as if reaching towards him, but the Sea did not answer.

-

--

**A/N: **Ehem… Slightly, eh, more than four days. But still! Third update **today!** Ah the joys of only one exam left, and of being sick to death of revision.

And look – plot! Sorta. If you squint. Pre-plot? It's a trade for the lack of Jack/Harry in this chapter. But it will come! Which reminds me, anyone has any suggestions about plot and stuff, please tell me. I kinda lost all my notes on this story, so it could go a bit random after this.

And, from here on out, I will dedicate myself to doing actual **review replies** to all those who leave a signed review! Haven't done it for the last chapter though, so thank you to: yaoi Kitsune, Simply Bulisen _(I'm all for slashing, honest, but still, the trauma!)_, parseltonge girl, Benched, Miko-Snow Goddess-Me, Ie-maru _(In all honesty, I nearly skipped the explain for 'And Jack just knew 'cause he was l33t that way' or similar)_, darknessmolded, Dahlia Franks _(Oh, the troubles that skin will cause – but you didn't hear it from me –shifty eyes-)_, Wolven Spirits, keske, SaphirePhoenix _(Tha's plot, that is)_, venusserenade, Professional scatterbrain _(Creative coma – wonder if school will buy that on a sick note)_, Firehedgehog, lonelyreverance, HevenSentHellBroken _(Cookie! -nomnom-)_, Kin Pandun, Nobody'sNobody, I-Y-T-Y _(More plot! See – I has plot!)_, Koruyuha, meamz, BitterSweet27, Zeroow, Akua _(Harry: -leaps back from skin- I didn't touch it, I swear! Dun die on me!)_, Serpent91, TCO, yo tadaiima, Silvermane1, Murphyangel, Gertrud-Eveline, KingofLoosePages _(Teach Voldemort to read the small print, huh?)_, Kakeru-chibi, Dream's Abyss, handadeath, Fleetfoot, Fate, XxRoadkillxX _(Yee, the epithet does appear to be popular. PotC has spawned a new religion o.O)_, Jane Doe, spinnerofdark, yllom21, Shinemegami _(Halo thar newcomer!)_, Ore no Naruto _(Hey here's a thing, if internets die then first they were alive, which means they really __are__ evil and actively working against us. I knew it!)_, GeminiNero, SunStar Kitsune _(More of the lines of 'presence', like a sorta point-me spell)_, E.Tphonehome, Evelyn Lucia, Ukitake-chan, Triden, Sweet-single, Tyra Kinami, Rasberry Jo, Marauder Heir, MoonKaiser, DarkeningUndine, dark03rose, Allanasha ke kiri, samgurlalways, Oroburos60, moonjess _(Sorry, not much interaction this chapter. It's coming though, I swear)_, lazycrazykitten, Lanari, oliveoil889, Eleature _(Oooh, clever thoughts. Maybe, but then again, maybe not –ducks ripe tomatoes-)_, Merrymow and Y-dO-u-CrY.

Gasp, pant, wheeze… **Thank you so much people! So many reviews!**


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